On the Hardware Store

Like nearly all homebuyers, I was hit with a few surprises when I purchased my house. The first was the washing machine dying mere days after I moved in. Having just weathered my first closing, I was not exactly awash in cash. Another surprise, and lesson, came months later when I was pulling weeds from a large bed of periwinkle. I unwittingly plunged my hands into poison ivy and, ignorant of my mistake, touched my hands to my face, arms and legs. I have since memorized six valuable words: "Leaves of three, let it be."

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But not all surprises are bad ones. For example, when making the transition from apartment renter to house owner, it didn't occur to me that I would one day develop a love for the hardware store.

I am not talking about the big mega home centers, although they certainly have their advantages: Prices are low, and within those stores' cavernous corridors you can find everything from peat moss to granite countertops. No, I speak of that institution that has dwindled in number but not perished: the locally owned, mom-and-pop hardware store.

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About 3 miles from my home in upstate New York is a little hardware store called Marti's. (Marti has retired, but the place has retained his name.) It doesn't have the vast selection that I would find at a supercenter, but I love going there.

What catches me when I first walk into Marti's is the smell – that scent that comes from putting steel tools and lumber and rubber hoses and nubuck work gloves all in the same room. It is oddly comforting. You would think that I, a woman, would prefer the shop down the street from Marti's that sells flowers and candles. And I do like those things. But the aroma in Marti's hearkens back to my childhood. It reminds me of tagging along with my dad when I was kid. I could often find Dad, who was a farmer, working on his truck or tractor, so I guess I associate those hardware store smells with him.

I also like the individual attention that I get at the local store. An employee always greets me and offers to help, and I've never left Marti's without receiving a kind word. I was in there the other day to buy mouse poison and bathroom caulk. As I was leaving, the cashier smiled and said, "Enjoy your projects." I don't know that recaulking a tub is enjoyable, but I appreciated the sentiment.

I hope mom-and-pop hardware stores never cease to be. They have nearly everything I need. And for those days I want to leave the home projects behind and just go fishing, they sell live bait, too. —Kim Sipes